


The Fix Is In

by escribo



Category: MASH (TV), The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidney Freedman comes to see Billy where he's stationed at a MASH unit</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fix Is In

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a strange cross over. Written a while ago for a hurt/comfort bingo

There was golf in the minefields every afternoon they weren't cutting into children. Billy reflected that it was an apt metaphor for his entire life as he stood still and silent, twisting the borrowed nine iron in his hand. The grip was slick, and he rubbed his palm on his thigh while BJ lined up his shot. Sidney crouched down at his side, his boots covered in dust, and squinted his eyes against the sun. They waited, breaths held, until BJ swung and sliced, the ball curving toward no-man's land. Par was getting through the make-shift course without losing a limb, and so far they'd fared well that day though they were just getting started.

Today was Billy's third month back in the field, an anniversary he'd celebrated with a martini immediately after Reveille. Later, he hadn't been surprised at all to look up from checking the day off in the calendar he kept to see Sidney walking slightly behind Radar in a straight line toward The Swamp. His bunkmates were still asleep, or pretending to be, while Billy stood in his boxers and shaved, ignoring the perfunctory knock on the door. In the middle of summer, the tent was essentially netting strung across a frame, the canvas walls rolled up so they could grab whatever breeze might come along. Privacy hadn't been recruited into this man's army, more unnecessary to the Americans than the Brits, and Billy was appalled by how easily he'd become accustomed to it.

Sidney didn't say anything as he opened the door, dismissed Radar with half a salute, and tossed his duffle onto the floor. Billy watched him in his scrap of mirror pinned as he rinsed off his razor. Sidney looked tired, older by at least ten years since the last time they'd seen each other. He put a new picture of his son in Billy's hand before he picked up Billy's martini glass and headed to the still.

"Olives?"

"We were hoping you'd bring some."

Sidney patted down his pockets. "Fresh out."

Billy stared at the boy in the picture as he used the corner of his towel to wipe off the last traces of shaving cream from his cheeks. The kid had big, dark eyes like his father, and was staring into the camera with a solemn expression though there was something lurking int the corners of his lips that said mischief wasn't too far off, also like his dad. "How old is he now?"

"Six."

"How old was he when you left?"

"Three."

"What does his mum tell him?"

"That I'm fixing people."

"Does that mean I'm fixed?"

Sidney tilted his hand, seesawing it in the air before he took a sip of his drink, wheezed out _smooth_ , and dumped the booze back into the carafe. "I think your system's off." 

"It's only gone through filtration once so far. Try it again in an hour."

"What did you use? Hawkeye's shorts?"

"I wanted to use BJ's but he was still wearing them." At that BJ rolled onto his feet, giving first Sidney and then Billy a bleary once over before he stuffed his boots on and stumbled in the direction of the officer's latrine. Hawkeye rolled over at the sound of the door knocking against its frame and mumbled, more asleep than Billy thought.

"Coffee?"

Billy nodded then looked down. "Pants first."

It'd taken nearly six hours for Sidney to get to the point after that and Billy was beginning to suspect it was bad news. Worse news. Hawkeye seemed to sense it too, in that way of his, and had stuck close, hence the golf. BJ was looking out over their course, his hand shading his eyes, watching as his ball gave way to gravity and dropped from the sky. Billy held his breath but stayed upright when BJ and Hawkeye curled away as one, anticipating an explosion that never came. This time.

"I got my orders. I leave in the morning," Billy said into the silence. He spoke to the blue sky, finding it rather startling in its intensity. Far, far off he could hear artillery fire, a dull thud barely on the edge of hearing. Hawkeye straightened up, tilted his head to listen too, but then shrugged and pulled a new golf ball from a pocket bulging with them.

"I heard," Sidney said, and when Billy looked at him, there was a strange twist to his lips. Billy realized he was sad, that he was sad for Billy. Something about it tore at Billy's gut and he had to look down at the toe of his boot. They'd both known his time at the American MASH unit would be limited. They'd been short a doctor and Billy was available, his flag hadn't mattered as much as his skill. 

"I was beginning to hope I'd stay here," Billy said after a while, after Hawkeye had taken his swing and moved off ahead with BJ. "I was hoping they'd forgotten about me, actually."

"You were never far from their thoughts."

"That's how my nightmares usually start."

"Do you still have them?"

"Did I ever stop?"

Sidney nodded once, acknowledging both the truth in that statement as well as the lie. They had stopped for a few weeks in Tokyo and Billy could see that Sidney wanted to ask about Dominic. He inclined his head to let him know it was okay. BJ didn't know but Billy had confessed all--or nearly all--to Hawkeye one night after a strange insomnia had overtaken them both despite their hours (days. weeks.) in surgery. He hadn't even been drunk--hadn't needed to be--as he explained about this beautiful, bright-eyed boy who had made him _feel_ for the first time in a long time, maybe ever. He'd been overcome by a recklessness, a desire that someone else should know Dominic's name and what he'd meant to Billy, and he was lucky that Hawkeye had been the one to collect all those memories as they spilled from Billy and kept them safe. At the time, he'd forgotten that Sidney knew, too--that Sidney had been there from the beginning.

"I never understood why you didn't say anything," Billy said quietly, almost to himself, but Sidney answered anyway.

"I figured there was enough pain and suffering in the world that I didn't need to add to yours, or his."

That night after dinner, Sidney walked by Billy's side back to the tent, his bunk mates having rabbited off for duty (BJ) and nurses (Hawkeye). Billy had been quiet since the golf game, lost to his thoughts and memories as he often was, and considered whether or not he'd rather spend the night--his last--at Rosie's instead of his sweltering tent. He thought Sidney would follow either way, so was surprised when he begged off at the door to The Swamp, saying he had promised Father Mulcahey a visit and would be back late if he could convince the father to turn checkers into poker chips. 

Billy nodded, raised a hand, wondering if he'd ever see any of them again since he'd leave for a new aid station at dawn. Nearly two years into the war, Billy knew that comings and goings often happened without a word. Saying goodbye was too difficult, and wasn't a habit Billy thought he could develop at this late stage. Instead, he opened the door and stepped inside, not noticing for a moment that the canvas sides had been rolled down. He stood still, the heat pressing down on his skin and making it hard to breath. He closed his eyes, waiting to become accustomed to the dark, and startled when he realized he wasn't alone.

"You didn't write."

Billy blinked his eyes open at the sound of Dominic's voice, trying to see and only just making out the vague outline where he sat on the edge of Billy's bunk. "I didn't know what to say."

"Anything. You could have said anything."

"It wouldn't have been enough."

"It would have been enough for me."

"You're right. I'm sorry." Billy took a careful step forward, wondering for one wild moment if maybe he'd begun hallucinating. Maybe the war had been one long dream and he'd wake up when Richardson shook his shoulder with an offer for a cup of (real, hot, strong) coffee and a summary of the cases that had come in overnight. Only the thought that then Dominic would have been a dream, too, made him push it away--he'd take the hallucination if it meant Tokyo had been real. 

Billy took another step, his hand outstretched to slide along Dominic's cheek, to curve over his neck, to brush at his short hair as Billy cupped his head. Dominic was solid and warm. Real.

"I don't want an apology. That's not what I came for."

"Then why did you come?"

"To give you this." Dominic stood, pressing against Billy shoulder to chest to hip to knee and pressed something into Billy's other hand as he spoke against Billy's lips. "It's a cross. I made it. Carved it. I know you don't believe but I do, and I thought maybe it'd be enough to keep you safe."

"Thank you," Billy breathed out, knowing his gratitude was as inadequate as his apology. 

"You'll wear it?" Dominic asked as he slipped the cord over Billy's neck.

"Yes." 

"Dr. Freedman said you were being sent to another aid station."

"I'm good under fire. That's what it says in my files so that's where I asked to be sent."

"They shouldn't-- Wait, you asked?"

"They offered to send me back, to let me serve on a hospital ship, which would be safer, I guess."

"Why didn't you take it?"

"I didn't want to be safe."

"Don't say that."

"You're my safe thought, understand? Even if you're not safe at all. I knew they'd send you back to the front because you're good under fire, too. I knew they'd send you back and then maybe I'd get to see you again, and it worked, right?"

"That's mad."

"That's in my file, too."

"Billy--"

"None of this makes sense, Dom. None of it." Billy stopped and took a deep breath. His skin prickled from the heat and his nearness to Dominic, and he could feel sweat run down his back. He stepped even closer, breathing the same air as Dominic, and closed his hands over Dominic's hips. He realized now that Sidney had been planned and he felt stupidly grateful, trembling as Dominic swayed toward him. "I didn't know you were coming. I mean, I hoped I'd get to see you again but..." he whispered. "Sidney didn't say anything but I'm glad."

They stared at each other for a moment before Dominic nodded, accepting. "I don't know how he managed it but I got 24 hour pass. Most of it was spent getting here but--" Dominic shrugged, "I'm here now."

"You're here."

 

Twenty-four hours later, Billy stared down at his hands, his grip slick on his scalpel. He rubbed his palm on his thigh, watching as the orderly lined up his next patient on the gurney. The ambulance driver crouched down at his side, his boots covered in blood, and squinted his eyes against the glare of the room's lone bare light bulb as it swayed on its cord. They waited, breathless, as a bomb whistled through the air, giving way to gravity and falling from the sky. Billy held his breath but stayed upright as everyone else curled away as one, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Instead, Billy thought of bright blue skies and bright blue eyes, and felt calm and sure as he turned to save the man who needed his help.


End file.
